


Loss of Control (the NSFW chapter)

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [22]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Demonstuck, M/M, Polyamory, THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER Y'ALL, erm, i CANNOT BELIEVE i am typing these in, look if i should add a tag just tell me okay, they're both in love with dirk, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15071963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: A follow-up toLoss of Control,because I decided to put the porn in its own fic and leave the rest accessible to everyone. Sorry for the lack of summary, but it's basically "Dirk gets fucked" and I don't know what else to say about it...





	Loss of Control (the NSFW chapter)

Unsurprisingly, Jake doesn't do anything but wash your hair and body. Not that that's not good for you—he knows how to touch you, hands sliding down over your shoulders, chest, hips, never touching anywhere that'd make you _need_ more but still finding all the places that make you _want_ him so bad you can't breathe—but it doesn't turn into him fucking you up against the wall. 

Which is okay. Shower sex never has been the best kind of sex, in your opinion, and as much as you want Jake, John's right in the next room. 

What you really want is both of them. 

When Jake shuts off the water, you slip out of the bathroom before he can finish hunting for a towel. John's still asleep on the couch, at least until you settle your dripping wet, naked self down on him and start kissing his throat. 

(The memory of the bruises on _Jake's_ throat stops you, though. You move up to John's face instead, after less than half a minute.) 

"Diiiiirk..." Blue eyes open, blinking hazily at you as his arms wrap around your waist. (His hands immediately find your ass. Nice.) "You're getting me all wet, dork." 

"I'm getting your clothes all wet." You settle down against him, flattening your head to his chest to hear his heartbeat and soak his shirt even more with your wet hair. "You can take your clothes off, you know." 

"I can?" 

You don't have to see his face to know the mischievous look that's on it, and you answer it with seriousness. "You _should_." 

"Give him what he wants, John," Jake says from the doorway; you roll your head to look at him and see that he has unfortunately gone in the wrong direction, with his shorts on again and a towel thrown over his shoulders. There's amusement and lust in his green eyes, though, and it's not like you can't get him naked again in under a minute. "He deserves it, after all." 

"He _does_ ," John agrees, and lets go of your ass to pull you up into a kiss that's all heat and tongue and teeth digging gently into your bottom lip. "He has to get off me for that, though." 

Hmm. No. Nope. You whine and cling to John despite his gentle efforts to peel you off, until Jake laughs softly and comes to scoop you up into his arms like you're his blushing bride. You feel underdressed with that thought, but hey, he's part of the proceedings now. You are the master manipulator, it is you. 

"Bedroom?" you suggest, leaning your head against Jake's bare chest and looping your arms around his neck. Maybe you should make it more than a suggestion, tell them they need to take you there, tell—

Except, no. No. You're not in control. You don't _want_ to be in control. 

And Jake does exactly what you ask him to do: turns and heads for the bedroom, dipping his head for a kiss as he carries you. He's gentler than John: no teeth, more tongue. He tastes kind of like the peppermint conditioner he used on you, and you wonder why the fuck that is in his fucking mouth, but the curiosity is only in the small corner of your mind that's not caught up in his hands supporting you and his mouth on yours. The _very_ small corner. 

You almost sob when he pulls away to set you down, but John's kneeling on the bed next to you almost immediately, and thank fucking god he's shed his clothes somewhere between the couch and the bed. He straddles you, hands on your shoulders and ass firmly planted on your lap, and when one hand slides down to wrap around both his dick and yours he makes a pleased sound at the fact that you, at least, are already hard. And he's getting there, as he goes back to the messy kisses that quickly devolve into you moaning into his mouth as he slides against you, slow enough that you won't cum even though his hand's tight around you and his cock's pressed up against yours, smooth and hard and hot and _amazing..._

"This is an _entirely_ unfair position," Jake complains, settling on the bed just behind you, and John laughs and pulls away from the kiss. 

(You whine. Again. Jake kisses you when you lean back in a huff, but it's quick and sweet and would be almost chaste if you weren't both nude.) 

"Hey, I just wanted to keep him happy." John grins, running one hand through his hair as he looks between you and Jake. "Dirk, what do _you_ want?" 

He's asking you to take control. You shake your head and scoot back into Jake's lap, since Jake seems to be the only one who'll touch you even if he's waiting for an answer. 

You guess you really should answer, since your sweet, beautiful, dumbass boyfriends aren't going to read your mind. And they _certainly_ aren't going to proceed without more explicit permission. 

"Fuck me." 

They look at each other; Jake's eyebrows go up, but it's John that asks, "That's as specific as you're going to get?" 

"I love you, please fuck me." Getting your brain to shut up so the words will come out is a bit of a struggle. "I don't want to _think,_ okay? I—I know I'm supposed to coordinate this shit, keep it all under control, but I _can't_ , not right now, I need—I need you, I could have killed you both and I could have killed myself but I didn't, we're here and I n-need—"

"Shush, Dirk," Jake says softly, before the way your voice cracked on that last word can devolve into full-out sobbing. He pulls you up against him, sitting on the bed and leaning against him so you feel his hard cock against your back, and he doesn't have to prompt you to spread your legs, hooking your ankles over his knees. "We're here. I'm here, I've got you. We'll give you what you need, sweetheart, everything you want. John?" 

"Yep." He's been fishing around on the dresser, and he drops the little bottle in Jake's hand, before settling in front of you. "Do you want—" 

"Kiss me. Then you can do whatever you want with me." 

And John laughs at that offer, shifting to kneel in front of you, hands on your shoulders so you end up leaning even more heavily on Jake as John kisses you. He's exactly as rough as you need him to be, holding you still when you try to press up closer to him or jerk away from an especially hard nip, and he doesn't pull back until you gasp and moan at the feeling of two of Jake's lube-slick fingers sliding into you. 

Even when he pulls away, John doesn't go far. Just slides his hands down to rest on your hips, and starts a campaign to make a trail of dark lovebites down your neck to your chest, careful not to break the skin. You try to watch him; that attempt lasts about a minute and a half, until he starts licking at the ring of scarring that passes around your neck just above your collarbone—so sensitive, so damn _sensitive_!—and Jake pulls his fingers out of your ass only to press three rather than two back in, murmuring endearments that your brain won't process and kissing at the tattoo on your shoulder. 

Then, you give up on trying to watch. What's watching but another kind of control, anyway? You don't need to see what he's doing to know that it's good. 

So. You let go, just a little bit more. You let your head fall back onto Jake's shoulder, and you stop trying to stay quiet. Let them know what they're doing to you. 

"Jake, fucking— _Jake,_ John, god, please—" 

"We've got you, sweetheart," Jake murmurs, scissoring his fingers inside you. The stretch drags something that's not a sob and not quite a moan from you, a sound that makes John hum in appreciation. And that soft sound gives you reason to moan again; his lips are already on the head of your cock, tongue darting out to lick at the tip as your body tries to thrust into his mouth and grind back against Jake's fingers at the same time. "John? Perhaps you ought to make him tell us what he wants." 

Oh, god, they're not really going to make you talk—

John's hand closes around your cock and _squeezes_ , the pressure just this side of not gentle enough as he leans even further down to suck a mark on the inside of your thigh. When he pulls off he sits up again, smothering your moans with a kiss. 

"C'mon, Dirk," he whispers against your lips, jerking you off just a little too slow for you to cum, "Jake wants to know what you want us to do to you, I know you heard him. He's already got what, three fingers inside you? Hold on—" 

You might actually scream when John's free hand joins Jake's, two of his fingers forcing their way in alongside the three already there— _that's_ a stretch, you though Jake had you stretched before but holy fuck, holy shit—

"Fuck, shit, John John _John_ —" You're not in control of your hands; they come up and claw at John's shoulders, scrabbling for a second before you find a grip and latch on to him, almost curling up as Jake—is it Jake? You can't tell, it really could be either of them that finds that spot inside you that makes you howl and pant against John's shoulder. 

The pressure on it ceases before it can tip you over, though. Thank god. You don't want to be done yet. 

"Three," John says, like he's proud of himself, pulling his fingers out of you and swapping that hand with the one on your dick; the added slickness lets him stroke you that much faster. "He's got three fingers in you; I bet he wants more, and I _know_ you do. Do you?" 

" _John,_ Jake, fuck— _ahh—_ " 

"Don't tell me we broke you already?" Jake asks, almost laughing at the way you can't get a single word out without punctuating it with a porn-worthy whimper. "Maybe we ought to stop, John, before we really damage him—" 

"Stop _teasin'_ me, you _asshole,_ " you groan at him, arching your back in an effort to grind against his cock and remind him that he could be putting it to use right about now. "Gimme, c'mon, y'know I _want_ you..." 

Shit, they have broken you a little, in the best possible way. Your words are coming out slurred, even, like you're as drunk on their touches as you might be on any alcohol. 

"Give him what he wants," John says, echoing Jake from however long ago it was that you started this, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you up and off Jake's fingers ( _fuck, no, that's not in the game plan—but you're not supposed to be working on your plan anyway, you're the one who said you relinquished control_ ). Your ass is empty, and you whimper again at that fact, and John presses his lips to yours and shoves you down flat against the bed, pinning you there and forcing your legs to stay well spread. 

It's not exactly what you want, but it's what he wants you to do, so you cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, sucking on his tongue when he thrusts it into your mouth and arching up against him, trying for more contact on your cock now that John's taken his hands off it. 

You don't really get enough, before he's slipping off you and to the side somewhere, but you _guess_ that's okay because Jake takes his place. 

Well, not quite takes his place. 

Jake doesn't flatten himself out atop you—he slides his hands along your thighs, holding you open so he can line his cock up with your ass, and even if his teasing was almost enough to drive you mad you're glad of it now, because once he gets the tip in it only takes one smooth thrust to seat him balls-deep in you. The head of his cock hits your prostate, and you arch up off the bed and _scream_ for him. 

John's on you before you can empty your lungs with the cry, stifling you into choked moans with an upside-down kiss that makes you think of shitty superhero movies and the kind of romantic cliche that both of your boyfriends love. This isn't the kind of kiss they'd put in movies, though; no, you're too vocal for that, and no arachnid-themed idiot ever had his nipples manhandled by the love interest as they kissed, nor did he indulge in said kiss while a _second_ lover's cock fucked him halfway to paradise. _Fuck_ , forget halfway. Jake knows just how to take you apart, and he's using every ounce of that knowledge now. It's like the only thing even kind of holding you together is John's kiss, and even that's right on the edge, barely enough to keep you from shattering.

Jake says something to John, but it doesn't have your name in it and you're too lost to focus. You can feel John nod, though, his mouth losing yours for a second as he shifts around so he can reach— 

His hand closes around your cock again, and Jake pulls your hips up to get the right angle and _fuck,_ okay, he knows how to make you lose it because before he hit that spot maybe once every two or three thrust but now it's _every fucking time_ and you last through what, three? Four? You can't even count. Four, call it four thrusts before you make a noise that starts as a moan and becomes a whine halfway through, as you cum all over John's hand and your own stomach. 

Jake doesn't stop, either, despite the way you can't help but whimper and whine at the overstimulation. For another endless stretch of time he rams into you, milking first spurts and then dribbles of cum out of your dick with every impact against your prostate; it's not until you're bucking under him, begging wordlessly for _something_ , please, you want him to _finish_ , that he thrusts in one last time, leaning down over you to press kisses across your face as he fills your ass with wet heat. 

You'd kiss back, but honestly? You're not capable of anything but lying here and panting under him, moaning as he slowly pulls out and collapses beside you. Actually, John seems to be the only one who's not completely done; he slides off the bed and onto his feet, gathering you up in his arms. 

"Hey..." Jake grimaces, rolling over to reach out for you as John lifts you up. "Bloody give him back already." 

You agree with that. You want to lie down beside Jake, with John on your other side, and just fucking sleep. But John huffs and shakes his head, kissing your forehead as he carries you towards the door. 

"I'm cleaning him up, dumbass. If you're still awake when we come back you can cuddle then, but we're _not_ getting cum all over the sheets and waking up sticky and gross." 

Oh. Okay. Fair point. 

Even if you're probably going to pass out in his arms in the way to the bathroom. Actually, forget "probably." 

You close your eyes, let your head fall against John's chest, and just. Stop thinking. He'll take care of you. They both will.

**Author's Note:**

> also why the fuck do I only write smut for this AU??


End file.
